


1665

by bonjourmags



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Art References, Fluff, Historical References, M/M, Music, Noble!Magnus, Servant!Alec, a lot of art tbqh, small amount of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonjourmags/pseuds/bonjourmags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1665. </p><p>It's the year Alec and Isabelle Lightwood started working for Sir Catherman, a powerful Sir. Alec gets his life tingled in strings; breathing makes his vision blurry, feelings makes him senseless. </p><p> </p><p>Then he meets Magnus Bane. The Piano prodigy, the man with magical hands. In a path full of art, they tangle their strings together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. march 1665

Dear journal,

Tonight I could not sleep. I was thinking about dad again. I am so lonely now. My sister is here and so is mom, but it's not the same. They're not him.

In the hopes no one ever finds you, dear journal. 3rd of March, 1665

****

 

The door opened with a cracking sound that reminded everyone of how old and crushed their house was. The small but strong figure of his lovely mom found its way through the rooms and Alec could hear the steps of someone else walking just behind her. A man. Alec's eyes searched for his little sister with a bit of fear. His hand took her arm as he moved her to the left, putting her away from the door of the kitchen. She wanted to make a remark of how foolish he was and in any ways she had more chances to leave with the stranger than he had, but instead she just groaned.

He hissed as an answer. He started cooking again and prayed for his sister's future. He knew who was the man visiting them: Sir Stephane Catherman. The rich man of the village, the one who built the church few houses away. He had so much money that his manor was bigger than every house of the village, making him look like an important person to who you should show only respect and nothing else. No one knew how he became rich, but many villagers said that he made his money from being loyal to a king and once he got enough he decided to leave and live his life in peace.

Alec's mother said he was a lovely but lonely man and that he was a complete gentleman. She once met him while selling herbs in her little shop in the center of the city and they talked for half of the day. They never quite became friends, they were acquaintances and nothing more, no one was really one of Catherman's friends, no one was sure if he even had some. But they talked and talked- and the day after he came back, then the day after too and so on. Every time he left the shop she asked with her polish accent to tomorrow? And his deep voice would answer 'morrow.

Alec's mother said that he had a great smile and bright white teeth that made him look like an angel who somehow ended his journey on Earth, that the way he talked made his voice sound like sweet apples and sugar. That his long and black hat was becoming on him, making his sharp cheekbones more prominent. At the moment Alec understood that the woman he adored since his birth fell in love with a man other than his very much missed father. She said that one day, he will come and look at her kids and will probably take one of them as a maid for his house. It was so big he needed someone to clean it.

The day was here and Alec was not ready. Surely, his sister would leave with the man without a long talk, Catherman would only watch how she works for few minutes then would take her arm and push her into his carriage, the only one in the whole village, and she would only come back every month or so. His sister was so young, she was only twelve and Alec was sure that a girl of her age has no place in the attic of a mansion. He prayed his God and asked to be the one taken away.

"My children, here is Sir Catherman. Be nice and convenient to him."

Alec rolled his eyes to his mother's words. She never addressed them as my children and he was sure that the rose perfume he smelled wasn't a man's one and therefore his mother was trying to impress Catherman. Alec started cutting the legumes for the soup to appear as a hard worker and to appeal as the man. He was devolved to be picked instead of his sister to save her from what could be her future life. Of course the thought that what she wouldn't have to do would be done by him didn't occur to him, the only thing that was important right now was Isabelle.

"Eager to work, isn't he? What are you doing?" Asked the man. Alec realized that his mother was right about the Sir. He had a beautiful voice that reminded him of the hot days in summer, outside in the sun as he would lay among the cows. It reminded him of a hot fire with crackling wood. The emotion of being surprisingly safe was what he felt.

"I am making soup, Sir. If you stay long enough I'll be more than happy to let you taste this. Do you enjoy carrots?" Alec answered the man as he turned around. For the first time he could look at him and he didn't let his chance pass. Dark green eyes were posed on him right away and as a sign of submission Alec let his gaze drop. He still had the chance to see the face of Sir Catherman: very round like an apple and as pink as a child's skin. A well-shaved beard below his lips made him look older than he was but encircled his lips perfectly. His shoulders were placed in a way you understood really clearly that he was dominant to anyone in the room. Alec wasn't the only one looking intensely at someone. Sir Catherman let his eyes on Alec and appreciated the way the younger boy acted in front of him: afraid but sure of what he was doing. A small smirk on the corner of his lips, the noble approached and took the boy's jaw in his hand, forcing him to move his head.

"Does he eat lots?" He asked looking at every angle of Alec's face. Mother answered in her high-pitched voice she reserved for big occasions:

"He eats, that's for sure. You can put him under a restriction if he's exaggerating."

The eyes of Sir Catherman changed and somehow became darker than they were before as he let Alec's head its free wheel. The last one wanted to shake and let his fear go out in a physical way since the tall man scared him from everything he did, the way he looked at him like a piece of meat, the way he talked about him like he was a dog and the way he let him go to show him who was in power here.

Alec understood it very quickly: Sir Catherman was weird and somehow creepy, but his strong beauty could make every second thoughts disappear.

"Boys need to eat. I do not like my boys with only skin and bones. They have to eat well if they want to work for me. Same goes for any girl. I do not want health problems caused by me." He walked towards Isabelle and Alec felt protective but surely not dominant. He was scared like an animal when the hunters are starting their work. He felt powerless against the Sir and wanted in no way to upset the man. If his will was to be his next servant he had to do everything who could please Catherman, and that meant letting him looking at his sister.

"She is quite pretty. " He said slowly as she moved her whole body to face him. He observed her like she was a diamond or a painting. "You look very much like your mother my girl." Alec bit his lip when he heard the way Sir Catherman's voice rolled with the words my girl. No man could call her my girl, it seemed wrong and it was the words his father used for her. Alec stood senseless still, watching from the corner of his eye the scene.

"Oh thank you. This means so much from such a marvelous man." Answered Isabelle in a chuckle. She seemed at ease, not afraid or frightened like Alec was and that perplexed him. He tried to search for a reason to why she was acting that way now, a small smile on her lips and her cheeks tinted as an orange rose, her soft brown eyes staring Catherman's. Her reaction to this closeness was the complete opposite of his, when he hid himself like a puppy, she tried to attract attention so would a cat asking to be pet.

To Isabelle and her mother, Sir Catherman was the most magnificient man they've ever seen, he was properly shaved and smelled like fresh mint but also like a man, not like every other males you could find in the village - no, he was refined and did not let his sweat in the air. His lips showed a nice shade of pink that made a great contrast with his porcelain skin and his astonishing green eyes charming everything he looked at. He had something not irritating but weird which was his black long hair. Alec found it dull while Isabelle felt it was a nice detail of the character.

Isabelle probably wanted to say to his big brother to go to hell with a wide smile so she could enjoy the middle-aged man in front of her alone, thought Alec. She did not since she (and Alec too) was so sure of the following: the noble won't take a boy as a servant, Sir Catherman would take a maid like every other noble does. Because if everyone said that girls cook well, did the laundry without questions and were more serviable. A boy is not made for that: they are made for physical work, not for a family life.

"Tell me about them. Do they work well? Who cooks here, who does the laundry? Have you trained them to go to the market? Do they know different herbs? Do they clean well?" Said the noble without separating his eyes from Isabelle. Their mother moved uncomfortably next to Alec who discretely put his hand over her back. "Isabelle does the laundry and she is the one who makes the house clean. She's very good at it, you will like her for that, I can assure you," and then she had to talk about Alec and she felt a bit reticent to it, Alec cooks here, he knows everything and even more about food and always surprises us with meals that are as great as the ones you can find in the Versailles Palace."

Maybe she said too much about him, or just not enough on Isabelle's account, but he quickly turned back to Alec and asked in a slow voice: "Is this true? I have to taste this, I remember how the meat tasted when I visited the King Louis fourteen as a kid. I hope you won't disappoint me." To what Alec smiled as he understood that he will be Sir Catherman's new servant. The noble pinched Alec's cheek and it was hard for him to not step back. It felt unusual for him to be touched, to be so close to someone and even more from a stranger, a really rich stranger who was about to buy all of his young years.

"I'll need your name before I take you away with me. You don't have to pack anything, you'll get new clothes once we're in my house." Said the noble. Their mom answered Sir Catherman's before Alec could. "My dear son is Alec. I am so happy that he is filling the capacities you're searching for. He is truly a saint. Can I still give him a bag with his personal Bible and other important items Sir?" Asked his mother, relieved and happy for her child. Alec wasn't so sure what was more appealing to her in the contract: the money the family will get from his work or the fact she would be able to visit Alec (and Sir Catherman) in his small castle. Celestine now with arms crossed started talking:

"My name is Isabelle, if you're interested Sir." Alec gasped, firstly from the guts that his sister had to say that and also because she messed his plans: if she's taken away too, mother will have no one in the house and Isabelle would have a poor future as a maid in a lonely castle.

His future was also being a poor servant in a lonely castle.

"Oh, of course. I almost forgot about you. You're coming with us too. My old maid is soon to die, replacing her is important. She'll teach you everything you have to know, every room you have to tidy and the ones you can't enter. Maybe you'll follow me in my trips for the care of my horses. Ever tried to ride one? It doesn't matter. You will."

Alec bit the inside of his mouth and tried to stay calm. Which he did, because he was a good son and soon, a good servant.


	2. April, may, june 1665

Dear journal, 

I went outside today. The flowers looked down and so was I. They didn't look happy, the sun did not make them astonishing. I don't know what to say to you. I think it's time for me to let the pen beside the bed table and I'll come when the time gets better.

 

I do not know what is missing. 

 

In the hopes that no one ever finds you, dear journal. 19th of April 1665

***

They got into the coach, which was a really fancy carriage with two white horses waiting for them. It was very rare for Alec to see horses. Only cows, pigs, rabbits and other animals raised to be eaten were to be found in farms. Of course he saw the heavy dray horse that the farmer used once or twice, but of course you couldn't really compare the bright white and agile horses with their fancy leather covering some of their body to hold them tight and next to the carriage with a dray horse. No, those seemed like pegasus, winged horses that fly and deliver information and save heroes from complex problems. 

 

Violetta, that was the name of the farmer's dray horses. He could remember the accent he had when he said with a toothless smile, "She's a bit hard sometimes, but no other mare could make me more happy than her. Not even my wife," and the young boy cringed to that before walking away. To Alec's surprise, an old lady seated just behind the coach horses controlled the animals. Alec asked himself, perplexed: a rich man like Sir Catherman should have a coachman to lead the majestic horses, not his maid. 

 

He turned to his sister, Isabelle, as he entered the carriage. She installed herself next to him while Sir Catherman took place in front of them. He had a black hat on now, and Alec found it quite fancy. He secretly hoped that one day he would wear a hat too, but he directly stopped his thoughts: no small villager could become as rich to wear such beautiful headgear. They only had some poor grey hats, looking really ugly once they got wet from the rain. 

 

Alec was no rich man. Headgear was not in his price range.

 

The house wore its name badly, it really wasn't a simple house. It was something between a mansion and a castle and Alec never knew what those words exactly meant, what were the differences. His mouth opened wide and his eyes were about to glitter when he felt a strong hand on his right shoulder. He did not had to turn around to know who it was; he knew in the inside that only Sir Catherman could be so dominant and, in a weird way, protective. He hushed him to get inside as Isabelle stopped to look at the flowers. Alec wanted to examine them and appreciate their beauty but he had no time. Catherman wanted him inside, and he wanted it now. 

 

The inside was just as magnificent as the outside. It was very dark and too dark sometimes, but the small windows still gave space to light, and provoked pretty shadows on the ground. Alec always fancied browns and dark yellows and could stare at objects without any obvious reasons, but when he found something pleasant he had to stare at it for more than just an instant. You wouldn't look away from a delicate painting of a marvelous woman, well Alec couldn't look away from object and to be more precise, from the colours that the item held. Forms and tones were what Alec cherished, it was like his little secret: of course he wouldn't tell a soul, even if his mom would find it quite adorable but he was sure that while she says it she would have this half smile saying oh poor boy you're born in the wrong family, I won't be able to offer what you want to take from the earth.

 

"My domestic, Lady Augustine will tell you everything you need to know. She will show you the rooms. I am leaving now, please do not disturb me while I'm in my office." Said Sir Catherman with a commanding voice. Alec answered with a small gesture from his right hand and as soon as he appeared, the noble left and was nowhere to be found. For few seconds Alec felt alone and scared like a baby animal discovering the world for the first time without his parents. He wanted to go home and stay in the warmth of his mother's embrace and never grow up again. But before he could run away, Isabelle entered the room and just behind her stood an old woman. 

 

She looked ill and sick but Alec said nothing and quietly smiled to her. Her hair put in a strict bun were in a greyish tinge, but so was her skin. Circles under her eyes, she had other folds on her face and a lot around her mouth, telling that in her past she used to laugh a lot. Her gently eyes were showing a deep but reassuring brown. "You must be Alec, aren't you? My name is Augustine. I am the head domestic here. You will meet Andreas, the garden boy when he comes back from his off-day. You're going to replace me in the kitchen and if I need you to, you'll clean up some rooms. And in the same time I'll teach my place to your sister and soon she'll be your superior." 

 

Her voice was high and she spoke with attention and precision and she surely made it clear that she was the head servant. Alec, against her, had no power and could not say a word. She was strict but with the time Alec learned that she was a lovely woman.

 

 

She showed the two kids their rooms who were separated. Isabelle slept in a small, too small for her and her brother's taste. At home, the two children shared their room and had a bigger one. Now Isabelle probably wanted to go back but she said nothing. Alec's room had more space and he even had a painting in it. He stared at it for hours and hours, wanted to learn every detail.

 

It was a well-made representation of a strong man with dark green eyes and a soft orange skin. The Sir and probably King if you guessed from the way he dressed himself had a large forehead with no folds on it. He looked very young and not only physically, in his eyes you could read innocence but also fear and anxiety. He was a mix of complex feelings and Alec could not stop looking at him. A long red cape honored his body and kissed his shoulders with lightness. When you got close to his wrist then a yellow-oranged attire showed up, looking like fragile silk. His long hair matched the Sir Catherman's hair and, somehow, Alec enjoyed the painting for that. 

 

He also enjoyed it because thanks to it he could get lost in someone's eyes for long with no questions asked, but he also had the opportunity to examine an absolute beauty with no time limit. For the first time in his life, Alec realized he may or may not fancy boys. Of course he hushed the idea as quickly as it came to his mind and went to bed.

 

The tasks were nicely distributed: Augustine cooked in the morning and in the afternoon she taught her job to Isabelle, how to make nice tea and, the girl's favorite part, how to ride the horses. Andreas always took the letters but then gave them to Alec who gave them to his Master, Sir Catherman. The noble decided that Alec would be his head servant, so every time he wanted something he asked to Alec first. Augustine was still the head maid in the house: she told what to do and when. Andreas used his large but damaged hands to sculpt the garden as a pianist would play from his fingers. In the morning, Isabelle washed every room with water and if she had time, the windows too while Alec did the laundry. It was not too exhausting since the only person who really lived here was Sir Catherman. All of the other persons were servants and servants do no have more than three pairs of clothes. When he finished that, either he helped Celestine for the the windows or he went to the market place to buy food, then he walked in the kitchen and started the last meal of the day.

 

At first it was quite horrible. Alec was good at cooking with, without using bad words, shit. His only utensils in his mother's house were a fork and a good knife she bought from the black-smith. Other than that, nothing. So when Augustine showed him experienced and proper utensils: Alec was not prepared to that. He was also not prepared to cook expensive meat or fish, explaining why he almost cried in front of the work he had to do. But he remembered what his mother told him: he was a boy, a boy is not made to cry, a boy is made to work, bring money to the house and to love his wife. So he swallowed his insecurities and cooked. He did it good.

 

When he did not, Augustine showed up and held his hand to help him. She showed where was what, how to use it and told him when Sir Catherman had a preference for the baking. Alec held a lot of love for her when she helped him and he always smiled to her so she clearly understands that he enjoys her presence. 

 

One day were he was alone in the kitchen, working on a grillade de veaux, as Sir Catherman asked him. The noble was quite happy with Alec's cooking skills but still made a remark that his mother over sold him when she said he was better than the Chefs in the Versailles Palace, to what the young boy answered "Alas I am deeply sorry for that, Sir, I am doing my best to full your needs." And the lonely noble smiled to that and shivers went down Alec's spine who found a way to quickly go back to the kitchen. He felt Augustine's gaze on him as he tried to calm down and be normal again, so he turned to her. She was paler than before, looking terribly sick and ill. Alec bit his lip. 

 

 

"I am sick. I am soon to die." Said Augustine before coughing. Alec's eyes glanced to her hands where on her index finger you could see a bit of blood. Then she looked at him right in his eyes and in the back of her's he saw something else than pain. He saw long nights decorated with soft cries into the pillow, he saw forgotten and forbidden love, he saw quiet smiles and a heavy past. But in no way he saw distress or nightmares. Augustine was not sick, or at least, she was not only sick. She had something hid somewhere in her mind, something she held in between her thin fingers as she fold the sheets of the manor, something she covered properly with severe looks and pink cheeks. 

 

Alec said nothing. He did not wanted to talk about it. Not about her physical sickness and not about other mundane things. Since the silence was king, Augustine left. 

 

They never exchanged a word after.

 

The days started getting longer and longer, all Alec did was waiting the Sunday, day of the Lord to pass so he and his sister could see their mother again. She was very healthy thanks to the money Isabelle and Alec gave her she could subsist. The house was not as clean as before now that the two kids weren't there to clean it up. Their mother always had a bitter smile on her lips and Alec asked himself if it meant that she missed her children or if she hated being alone. Father, gone for a long time now, then her own babies taken away, she felt lonesome. Her hugs became colder and colder with the weeks, maybe because she started to see her kids grow up and kill her inside. Take a step ahead of her. Leave her behind. 

 

Alec loved her too much to forget what she did for him and to dispense himself to come every Sunday. Loneliness changed her but so did her children. They were now adults. Isabelle started to see her mother as a burden, or even worse: as a enemy against her love for Sir Catherman. The two women fell deeply in love with the noble and could not stop their silent fight when they saw each other. Their eyes disputed as Isabelle showed pity for her old mother, and the woman tried to establish her power again, with no real concrete results.

 

Alec hated that. Alec hated when his family fell appart. Alec hated how his mother acted when she was sick at heart for the noble. Alec hated the way Isabelle looked at him when he smiled to Catherman. 

 

Speaking of him, he started to invite Alec to his diners. He said that the table was too large and too big for him alone, that he liked having company. When they ate together, he always asked Alec to stop calling him Sir and start using his real name Stéphane. For him the word Sir is reserved for servants and when the two of them had dinner it wasn't a Master and a Laundry boy. It was two friends discussing life and other things. 

 

Alec learned with time that his laugh sounded awfully bad and that was one of the only defects of the Sir. He was wise, resourceful, easy on the eyes with his angelic apparence, aimable. Alec asked himself were was Lady Catherman. At every diner they spent together, he told himself that this time he would ask. Then he never quite did it. Most of the time, someone would scrutinize what they do and what they say in the shadow. When it was Andreas he didn't care. When Augustine let her presence shown he felt more at ease than if she wasn't there, but when it was Isabelle... 

 

He could see how she wounded her lips from biting them, how the inside of her hand starting bruising from her nails scratching it. How her eyes became somehow dark and let happiness escape from her soul embrace, how jealous she got. Alec found it completely foolish, because he was simply a friend to Stéphane and nothing else. When the dinner was over, he was back to the Sir and Master's, nothing more. Isabelle shouldn't be jealous from a friendship when she wanted was love. 

 

Once she spitted tea on him. It burned but he said nothing while she quietly smiled. He stopped drinking tea at dinner that day. Stéphane told him that, he was a big boy now, he could drink wine, so he did. He liked the fruity essence that the liquid had on his tongue, how it played with his thoughts and made him somehow nicer and less stressed, less scared, less concerned about his sister's actions. His smile became bigger as the wine hypnotized his mind and told him it was normal to feel completly warm. He's not sure he even disliked the numerous times when Stéphane fingers brushed his, because it just felt right to him. 

 

Every time Isabelle served him wine, she murmured calmly to his ear just loud enough for him to ear, "You're drinking wine just from my heart, dear brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be patient, Magnus will appear in few chapters. I just need to clear up a bit the personalities and OCs.
> 
> Don't forget to comment it makes my day!


	3. September 1665

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor character death and also pain. If it makes you uncomfortable, tell me in the comments and I'll give you a summary of the chapter so you can pass it.

Dear journal, 

She always talks about him. How nice he is, how smart he his, how much she wants to see him. I don't want him to replace anything and I feel like my she wants him to. 

 

Writing does not have the same calming aura as it used to.

 

In the hopes no one ever finds you, dear journal. 8th september, 1665

 

***

Andreas was a lovely boy. It was for sure not because of his looks since most of his face looked crushed and his torso was too large for his triangular hips. Oh no, his beauty resided in his mind and his tongue. He talked with precise words without being critical to anyone. Isabelle  stopped talking to Alec in the midd of July and now the only company he had in the house were the boys: Andreas and Stéphane. 

 

The conversation between them were wordly, he learned details of the other's life, how Andreas left his father in the forest to gain the city and told him he would get back as soon as he could, but when he wanted to reunite with his old man they changed to much to get along. How Andreas fell in love with the  pharmacist's daughter. She still showed up at the manor sometimes and the gardener's smile brightened up, putting a nice ambiance in the whole house. When Alec asked silently with a couple of looks if she could stay and be here, Andreas let out a laugh. "Yeah, she can, Sir Catherman gave me his agreement. He likes her." Then he squeezed Alec's sides and added: "You'll see, when the lady of your dreams shows up he will let you take her here." 

 

Alec quietly chuckled to that, asking himself if he would, one day, find the perfect lady. The back of his stomach hurt as he thought about it so he brushed it off and started his work again. 

 

Speaking of lovers, Alec finally found the courage to ask Sir Catherman, or like he called him when they had dinner together, Stéphane, why there was no Lady Catherman in the house. A long silence took place between the two boys as the noble started playing with his food from embarrassment. Alec felt like he asked too much, too far and now, fueled by reserved thoughts, the Sir seemed in pain. Suddenly the friendship between the two boys seemed fragile, holding on a minuscule wire and Alec was walking on it holding a million books. Maybe Alec tried to open doors who stopped welcoming guests since long and he crushed the handle by pushing too severely. After a while, his mouth opened arduously. "I used to have the most astonishing wife you could find in our countries. Alas she is not in this world anymore. She left us few years ago." 

 

Alec stayed tongue-tied. If Stéphane wanted to talk about it he would, but if he had no envy then the conversation could be cut short at the moment. As he swallowed hardily his saliva, the Sir continued on his journey. "We met in Versailles, actually. She was here with her future husband to visit the palace. At the time they were supposed to live together and have kids, but she never married him. She fell slowly for me and her parents fell quickly for my fortune. I still can remember the color of her dress when for the first time she addressed me a look." His hand found a way to touch his torso where his heart was, a weak smile on his face. "Grey. But it wasn't just grey: it wasn't like a normal, boring grey like our skies, no. It was powerful, superb, mixed with a drop of blue. Her skin looked so pale that day."  

 

Their eyes started glittering; Stéphane from the memory, Alec from the honesty and the trust Sir had given him. "Childebert the First, King of the Francs. We met in front of a painting of him. I made a replica of it since but I moved it from our- my room when she... It was too hard for me to have it hither." 

 

Alec's hand found the hand of the noble and as only answer he started talking again. "You would've liked her. She was gentle with everyone. And even more with Augustine." 

 

Then Alec understood why Augustine was so important to the castle, why she was still here: she used to be the ladymaid of Sir Catherman's wife. Maybe his heart, still too big and beating too fast for his beloved wife asked to keep her as a souvenir. "I've been running around to find again what I felt for her. It's hard. Now, prithee, leave. I want to be alone."Alec brushed his thumb against Stéphane's fingers and the last one smiled while murmuring under his breath, "thank you," then the young boy left. 

 

Alec truly wanted to meet Lady Catherman and cursed himself for being here too late. The Sir painted her like a lovely woman, pretty much like he imagined his future wife. Alec's life was filled with gentle women but none of them where in their twenties or younger. With his work, Alec was not even sure if he could get a wife one day. He wanted to, but now his life was Sir Catherman's propriety. The choice wasn't his anymore, and somehow, Alec didn't care. Work was the only thing that mattered now.

 

But anyways, was the choice his, even before he was sold to Catherman?

 

The door squealed when he opened and closed it. He  almost jumped in his bed while he took his clothes off. He manipulated his white (not so white anymore from work) cotton shirt with his hands. It was soft on his skin and he liked it. He felt like a new born enjoying the safety of his mother's soft skin.The shirt was a part of the new clothes Sir Catherman gave him when he and his sister started working for him. It was simple, of course, but the quality was way above everything he could buy from his money. Even with a work he was poor. Most of the money went to his mother but he enjoyed the new "social" status he had. Now he wasn't the child of the herb seller, no, he was the servant of the most rich man in the town. They resided in a village close to Derby and Nottingham where the grass was green and the sky grey, but Alec never dreamt of any other places.

 

He proceeded to take off his pants too before folding his clothes and set them aside. He walked up to his bed table and with his agile but wounded hands he captured his night clothes. A white shirt that was long enough to hide his knees. He bent down and opened his Bible hazardly. His favorite passage was the one who talked about David and Jonathan and his mom said that it was because he liked their strong friendship, that it was a great value to hold on to. Without a look for the book, he started praying in small whispers who resonated when they hit the walls of his small room. The calm was only cut by him and the words of the Lord, which made him feel safe and recognised by God. He felt closer.

 

After it he slept badly, like he used to. It wasn't nightmares, it wasn't the lack of sleep, it seemed to be something else that he could put a finger on. His life wasn't so hard he said to himself, some had way worse. But it didn't help to think that way, he still slept bad. 

 

One day, Augustine stayed in her bed without moving. Alec and Isabelle did her work for her. In the whole manor you could hear despairs coughs escaping her throat. Dry moans asked for help and hurt anybody who listened to them. Alec's sister loved Augustine like a second mother and in some ways she truly was, and she surely loved the girl back the same way. They had a strong bond and Alec felt more and more alone with the days, just missing his own mother and when he realized that his sister slowly abandoned him, he decided that he loathed Augustine.

 

The two girls talked until it was late night everyday and sometimes Alec heard some chuckles or even his sister sobbing but he felt less and less interested in a person that left him alone. That was what he said to himself while he curled into a foetus position and tried to prevent himself to run to Isabelle's room and ask her what was wrong and how he could help her and make her world better again, how to make her see the colors bright and not dull like she said it became. Of course he never did it because for some reason Isabelle really had something against him and whenever the two of them saw each other in the corridors, the young boy smiled at her and asked her how was life and she only hushed him with heavy looks.

 

Alec never understood why his sister changed like that. She grew up so much in few months, become more and more of a woman and less and less of a girl, her traits starting to remind him their mother. Her hair became longer and the time they spent together was now shorter. Alec used to say himself that it was because both of them were working from early until late but he knew inside of him that it was only an excuse and that somehow, one day, he will face the truth: she does not like him as she used to. She wasn't the little kid who gave him rocks as birthday presents and she is not the one who drew in between the pages of his Bible when they were younger, she wasn't the one who hugged him when the nights were too cold for them, she wasn't the one who would kiss him goodbye when he walked to the market place or the one he used to kiss her legs when they hurt her too much. 

 

She wasn't that person anymore. After three months, she stopped coming with Alec when he was walking home to see their mother. She always said, "She sold us to Catherman, Alec, don't you see her little game? We're earning money and she takes all of it and I don't want to be a part of her family a second more. She's a disgusting woman and I don't want to see her." To what he wanted to hit her and he once did, a slap on her soft skin and it slowly turned red, then she cried and asked for Lady Augustine who looked at him with severe eyes. He said slowly: "She insulted our mother. We do not insult family." With all of the noise the garden boy came inside and so did Sir Catherman who answered that "No, we are your family. That lady is not your family anymore."

 

Alec said nothing. They were right. That lady had no rights on him or whatsoever since she sold her children to Sir Catherman. But Alec still saw his mother on Sundays. He loved her too much to let her go so quickly, he needed time to think of how he could stop their relationship - it doesn't has the be painful.

 

The young girl wanted to keep the head servant safe and whenever she screamed from pain, Isabelle ran to her room. Sir Catherman saw her doing it and did nothing, he knew too much the pain when a dear person was about to die. No one questioned the others. Andreas worked now slower and Isabelle stayed all day in Augustine's room. 

 

 

On a Friday, Sir Catherman stopped Alec in one of the numerous hallways. With his large hands he gripped Alec's shoulders, not allowing him to move more. The contact made him shiver but not like it used to when he was afraid of the man, now it changed. It was a good kind of sensation, a good afraid, when you're about to eat for the first time a certain chocolate or when you're about to kiss. "Yes, Sir?" Asked Alec "Have you slept well, Sir? Do you need anything, Sir?" 

 

The noble looked at him with tired eyes. His face was paler than it usually was and Alec thought it was from a bad night of sleep. It wasn't. Sir Catherman was nervous and even anxious for Augustine. He may not be afraid for the reasons you'd think, oh no, he was a selfish man. For him she lived enough and had a great life, and dying in her late fifties was better than good. He wanted to keep her with him so they could talk about Lady Catherman again, so the memory of his much missed wife never disappears. He wanted her to stay by his side to commemorate their once loved friend and more. 

 

"Prithee, tell Isabelle to say her goodbyes to Augustine. I don't want her in the same room anymore it's getting unhealthy for both of them. You'll take her charge from now on. You may go." 

 

Alec approved and did as he said. Isabelle truly was against the decision but against the Sir she had no power. She kissed slowly Augustine's head, murmured love words and left without looking at her brother. Her porcelaine skin with cheeks tanned, she showed anything he had to know. She was disturbed and angry. She wanted to destroy objects to let her rage go outside and leave her body, but she was well raised and wouldn't do a thing. Alec wanted to hold her in his large arms and slowly sing to her that everything is okay, but an emotion blocked in his throat stopped him from moving. 

 

They stopped feeling like brother and sister a while ago, anyway. 

 

Augustine was practically dead. Her nose looked awful, almost broken with a bone trying to leave her skeleton. Alec hesitated before he washed it with a wet fabric. She smiled from pleasure when he approached it to her and effloresced it on her nose. He was very careful to not hurt her, she seemed already in intense pain and he wanted to do her good, not pain. She slept half of the day and only woke up to moan. Alec brushed the old lady's hand with delicate fingers, afraid of breaking anything in the old woman. He started reciting the Bible to her, so she could leave the place with faith, love for and from God. Even if she was asleep he continued, afraid that she would die while her eyes were closed. He started crying after few hours into the night but his mouth still expressed the words of God for her. Then she interrupted him. Her voice was empty of feelings, like she was reciting a text she thought about many and many times. She talked right away, not taking breaks, maybe scared of dying between two words.

 

"Remember that one day I told you I was sick? You didn't asked why. Maybe that's because we both knew what it meant. We both knew it was better that way. When we saw each other again, you didn't said a word to me."

 

Alec swallowed with difficulty his saliva. He knew where the discussion was heading but he really could do without it. She was about to put him in front of his sins, in front of his thoughts, in front of his problems. Her voice was low an painful to hear as she started to talk.

 

"I'm sick. Physically. Whenever I go to the bathrooms there's blood, my waist is crushed in the inside, my nose looks like I've been beaten to death. I am dying, Alec. We all know that. The thing is, I'm not just sick physically." 

 

Alec refused to look her in the eyes. He walked up to the window to silently tell her that he was not comfortable but she didn't payed attention to his hints. It was beautiful outside, such a great night wasted by a horrible discussion and an awful death.

 

"To God's eyes, I sinned. Everyone sins down here. We steal, we cheat, we kill. But my sins are painfully close to yours, aren't they?" To those painful words, Alec jaw clenched and he turned around to face the dying lady. She smiled with her broken face and her mind seemed to be smiling too. Was she thinking that she was helping him? 

 

"What you share with the Master, I shared it with Catherine. I understand what's going on between you two boys, and you do too, that's why you stopped talking to me. We're so alike it scares you my dear." Alec wanted to burst into a black rage and scream to her and maybe hit her a bit on her hips so she wouldn't be able to free herself from her liquids anymore and she would slowly die from too much blood in her lungs. It was a brutal idea. He did nothing because he was well raised to say thank you and to ask how to help. 

 

"You are so wrong. Step- Sir Catherman and I share friendship. Whatever you and Lady Catherman had, we do not. I am not interested in-" 

 

"Boys?" She said to cut him off. "Alec, my dear. You do not have to understand what a relation is to love someone, you do not have to understand yourself. You do not need to let your feelings inside because you think the God will send you to Hell for your actions. God loves everybody and the Christ died for our sins. Our sins, it means yours and mine too. God won't hate you if you love someone, Alec. Follow your heart, where God is." 

 

The words resonated in Alec's body and he felt strongly against them. He never felt homosexual. Augustine saw too much where there was only transparence. Of course she was right God won't hate someone who shows true love, even for the same sex. He want what makes them happy. God is good. 

 

"You can think I'm going to Hell, Alec. You can hate me for putting your beliefs in trouble, for telling you you're not normal. But trust me, Alec, to me you are normal. You always have been. Do not hate yourself for thi-" She stopped then she screamed for help. She started to pant heavily and her chest could not support the pain. Alec ran to her bed and held her head in his hands. His mind was asking if everything was okay and bearable when his eyes actually asked if she wanted to die now. Her hand found Alec's and her mouth cried in desperation.  Her whole body asked silently to leave her die alone. He left the room without a word.

 

The conversation was not finished, they still had so many things to say to each other but they couldn't, the time passed to fast and death was too close. The conversation would never end and would always change with the years.

 

In the night, Agustine died. Isabelle cried. Stéphane did nothing.


	4. November 1665

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting twice this week. I am deeply sorry for this: even if my history researches were quite complete, I have a problem in my plot. Just to be clear: Le Festin de Pierre by Molière was represented for the first time in february 1665. Unfortunately for my plot, it was not released as a book before 1682. Do not mind my plot hole,,,
> 
> Also, warning for small smut.

***

Dear journal,

I met someone. She is very pretty and everyone likes her. I like her too. I don't want to be hers and I don't want her to be mine either, she's just... quite nice. I laugh a lot with her and she smiles. She touches my shoulder and it makes me body warm. I somehow feel happy again.

 

In the hopes no one ever finds you, dear journal. 9th november, 1665 

***

Alec was cutting vegetables in the kitchen when Andreas approached him with the letters. Augustine, now for long gone, left work for everyone in the manor. She left laundry, rooms to clean, horses to feed. The worst thing was how she left Isabelle, in a complete distress, with red eyes who could habit the Devil. Alec was not sure who between the two girls really passed away, the cold body of the old lady or warm body of the young servant. Something in her eyes changed when Augustine died. Before, it used to look a beautiful dark brown like the big tree in the middle of the village, a bit orange as a fire lighting up a room. Something used to spark in the behind of her iris, something impish, something playful that kids hold and that she somehow kept when she grew up. But it seemed that it left with Augustine's death. Her eyes only looked like black, now.

 

That little thing wasn't innocence, oh no, she still had it and will probably keep it until she loses her maidenhead. It was more of this small detail behind quiet smiles or when you enjoyed the simple moments the life gave you - like warm water slowly running down your skin after a cold day outside or the delicate contact of the pillow against your soft cheek. There is no word for what Isabelle lost. It wasn't a name, it wasn't an object, it wasn't an emotion, it wasn't a person. She lost a concept, a part of herself.  Isabelle changed so much in the last half year, Alec could not recognize her anymore. They now were only people who worked in the same place, lived in the same rooms, hated each other for no real reasons, fighting as ridiculously as cats do, hissing when they meet. She was now very pretty, her hair grew a lot and brown bangs fell on her eyes as if they tried to cover the pain she was used to endure. Her body took forms where it was supposed to and it attracted a lot of looks, mostly from Sir Catherman's guests. Stéphane himself wasn't blind to how she changed either, always getting an eyeful of her. 

 

Alec looked Andreas directly in the eyes as he took the letters between his fingers after he wiped his hands on his cooking apron. There were two letters and a bigger one who was abundant. He quickly took off his working clothes while he hushed Andrea to leave the kitchen. Alec was way more stressed than before since he had to do Augustine tasks, adding more work to his schedule, less time to sleep. He walked quickly to Stéphane's room, eager to see him. Whenever he could bring him letters he had some extra fives minutes in the Sir's room and it made him feel closer to him, important even. Stéphane was the only person who made him feel like he actually matters.

 

He didn't even knocked on the door and he just entered with a wide smile on his face. Sir Catherman turned around quite surprised. His dark voice sounded like a cold, dark forest. "What are you doing here, without even asking before if you may enter?" Alec felt his saliva stuck in his throat as it was smoke taking control of his breathing organs. He bowed in front of Sir Catherman to show how sorry and submissive he was. He could feel Stéphane's smile in the air but he never saw it with his own eyes, only imagining it. It was one of these moments where they said things to each other without using words or even looks, just the way they held themselves. "I am deeply sorry Sir, but I have your letters. Please, accept my apologies." 

 

"Prithee." Said Catherman with his strict tone. "Do not use please in front of me. This word seems so rubbish." He approached Alec and forced him to stand up still. A hand on the servant's jaw, he was holding his head and examined his face with appetite for few seconds. "You have a beautiful mouth, do not use it with simple words, my dear. Use your tongue to roll letters and use thy tone for luxurious sentences." 

 

"I am deeply sorry Sir, but I have your letters. Prithee, accept my apologies." Said Alec, again. As an answer Catherman let his head go and used the hand who held him to ask the envelopes. Alec gave them to him and he quietly walked a step back but still stayed in the room. He looked around to see white the white and gold bed where the noble slept. The pillows seemed so comfortable and he never wanted to sleep so badly. In the main time, Stéphane opened the letters. He started with the bigger one, to what an exquis smile found it's place on his face. He showed to Alec the inside. 

 

It was a succession of badly written notes, all on a wonderful white paper. The handwriting was beautiful but so rushed that it looked almost barbarian. There were so many papers in it and Alec surely did not knew how to count high enough for them. His eyes stopped on letters as they said absolutely nothing to him. He didn't understand Stéphane's excitement. He couldn't. 

 

"What is this?" Asked Alec, wondering how could so small objects make him so happy.

 

"It's Molière's new piece, my dear. Le Festin de pierre. I am deeply excited. Would you like to read it to me? Here, take the papers." He handed the letters to Alec who looked at him with frightened eyes.

 

Simply for this: Alec never learned how to read. 

 

His hands started to shiver as his tongue got suddenly dry as a desert. His mother never told him how to look right the different letters to form words who form sentences who form stories. She had not enough knowledge for this. Of course he asked his pastor but he did not had the time, so he listened really closely to the Bible's sayings and he  memorized the ones he loved the most. He knew them by heart and held them close to his. He could repeat most of the Bible if you asked him and do it with a burning passion. But that was all. He couldn't read to save his own life.

 

"You can't read, don't you?" Asked Catherman, slowly. "But anyway I was acting quite foolishly. It's written in French. There is no way you can talk French. You may leave my room now. Tonight, we will have two persons for dinner. Prepare the food you prefer from all." He said, now his voice as sweet as the fresh air in the morning with the birds signing to meet the sun once again. Alec knew it was a bit of pity but not only that. In his voice and mostly in his eyes were hidden a hint of protection. "Are you having company, Master? If it's Lady Course, I am making the meat she cherishs so much." Said Alec now more happy with how the conversation turned. Of course he felt stupid for not knowing how to read, but in a way it didn't bothered him too much. He was a servant, not a noble. His eyes weren't made for cristal paper with beautiful words, they were made to choose aliments and to see the laundry whiter than white. 

 

"I am having company, indeed, but not Lady Course. I want you to eat with me tonight. It has been so long since the last time." Alec quietly smiled before leaving the room. 

 

Then he prepared the vegetables again: cutting them in tiny pieces, ripping them appart to take off their flavor. He asked himself what he wanted to eat for once, putting his person before the others. He had the chance of eating properly a new thing and he is not going to let it pass. Once he was fully dressed with formal clothes for the village, he went outside. He made a sign for Andreas, who answered with his head. He walked on the dirty road and met few persons that he once knew. 

 

He did everything to avoid his mother. He had no real reason for avoiding her, he just felt like it was better for him than going up to her and talk. She would ask questions and he had no nerves to speak to her now. Before he started working for Sir Catherman his mother was his everything, but it seemed like once the separation happened they did not belong together anymore. Now being in the house that was his little home sensed incredibly distant, elsewhere. His place was not there anymore and they both knew that. 

 

He continued his walk to the market place where he quickly found his way to the butcher. Now pretty much every two or three days he had to go there to buy the food. It wasn't a bad task since he had the chance to leave the dark rooms for few minutes and enjoy the fresh air. "What can I give you?" asked the butcher with a gross accent. His big lips moved and so did his heavy moustache. Alec was a bit shy when he answered that he would very much enjoy three rabbits, cut if it was possible. The meatman licked his teeth as he started taking dead animals in his hands and chopped it's head with a surprising force. His apron was full of blood and Alec wanted to vomit. Suddenly he was happy to be a servant and not a butcher. 

 

Preparing the dinner was quite easy. He knew how to cook rabbit and even had some great skills, he just never tasted it. Very excited to taste the animal, he urged himself to make it as perfect as he could. Sir Catherman made a remark while they ate. "Today is better than other days, it is absolutely wonderful. Great job on this, boy." Alec laughed to this and they finished their meat together in silence. Once they were done Sir Catherman insisted that Alec stayed by his side. They approached their seats and stand close on a corner of the table. Catherman told him stories of Versailles and how they lived there, how horrible it was and how grateful to God for letting him leave. He spoke during hours and hours of how mean people were, how tight your chest makes you feel whenever you're around others in the palace. 

 

"But isn't it a golden Palace? Everyone says it's fantastic, the food is perfect there and the castle looks like Heaven on earth, Sir." Asked alec while he putted his elbow on the table to hold his head with his right hand. Catherman laughed. "Prithee, do not call me Sir. Call me Stéphane, after all we're closer than just a Master and his servant." Those words made their way to Alec's head and he felt important. Way more important that was Andreas or Isabelle or even Augustine when she was still alive.  "Oh and yes you are right, it is a golden Palace. Everything shines there, flowers are everywhere and smell way better than any perfume you can imagine. But the people are awful. All wanted the King to look at them, smile at them, acknowledge how they exist and breathe just to have money from him. They all play games with each other and I hated that. Apparently they changed a bit since the last time I visited. Maybe I'll go there again and see. I would enjoy seeing the man who wrote the manuscript I got in the letter earlier." 

 

"Did you liked the story? Is it a great one? What does it tells?" Asked Alec, ears all open for Sir Catherman to talk. He enjoyed his raw and dark voice, as deep as a dragon's throat. But his voice wasn't the best, it was the attention that the noble gave him and made him feel shivers. It felt wrong, so goodly wrong. 

 

"It's about a man. He enjoys ladies, every kind of ladies and thinks he should meet them more in privacy, if you understand my sayings. His servant and fervent friend tells him it's not good, if you put it in a rough and quick way to narrate. It was quite nice. I did not liked everything for sure and it wasn't the best piece Molière wrote but he... has some ideas there. It was a great lecture indeed." He approached Alec and now they could feel each other breath on their skin, "And how was your day, my dear?" 

 

 

Alec answered truthfully and they kept talking together until late. The wine made their head a bit heavy, just enough for them to feel like they were flying but still have their feet on the ground. After a long silence between them, Stéphane started telling him a story of what happened when he was still young, about Alec's age he said, to what the servant answered that he did not look so old. Stéphane liked how the young boy saw him, still fresh and somehow a troublesome boy, stealing food from parties in the Versailles' Palace. He laughed to Alec's remark and suddenly his face lit up like he just had an idea. The servant seemed tired and his eyes were asking for sleep when his cheeks screamed that he wanted to talk and learn more for his Master. Sir Catherman took Alec's head in his hand with a firm movement and looked him directly in his eyes. 

 

"Alec. I adore you. I am yours. All faces are gruesome next to yours. When one has once seen you, one cannot stand the rest. " 

 

The young boy loved the simple words. Those words were what marked him that day. If Sir Catherman used other ones, the situation would have turned so different. But he didn't, and Alec felt loved for the first time. He felt needed, he felt strong, he felt wanted. He had enough of being someone's shadow and for once, he wasn't second best. Sir Catherman made him look like the brightest star in a sky full of darkness.

 

Alec slowly approached his head next to Stéphane, eyes staring directly his mouth. He waited for the noble to decide how the situation will end up, they could just tear appart now and this night would be forgotten by both of them like a dream who felt real but was only false hope. He also could gently kiss him and tell him everything would be okay and that was the single thing Alec wanted and hoped. It was attention, he wanted to feel safe and Séephane was tall and muscular enough to make him feel like he belongs somewhere again. Big arms could embrace him with force until his problems would feel like they weren't so important anymore. 

 

He did not, obviously. Alec was still a young boy who dreamt of love and acceptance. Stéphane was way older than him and already experienced first love, true love. Alec wasn't a toy, no. But Alec was not his future lover, because of his age, because of what was holding between his legs, and mostly because of his social status. 

 

He bit Alec's lip and it surprised him. Maybe the young boy should have realized at that time how the action actually showed what where the noble's wants and needs, that the two of them did not held the relationship on the same level. He did not, obviously. 

 

He let his lip in the other's teeth and unconsciously his tongue licked Stéphane's mouth. Eyes now closed, Alec tilted his head so his nose wouldn't be so troublesome. Stéphane lips tasted like pepper and the color red, like they were macerated by the rude words he once used. Everything was rough, brutal like a fire eating up slowly but surely the wood by the inside. 

 

Their kiss didn't felt like Alec's wounds healed from themselves like he thought it would. It was not that. It was supposed to feel safe and sound. Alec lost his head because it felt warm and wrong but so, so good.  It was completely new to him, sensations of need and a different hunger than when you're starving. Every bit of the skin Stéphane touched was now in fire, burning him in the inside of his brain. Alec wanted more of everything all at the same time but his mind screamed for it to go way more slower. He gently moaned in Stéphane's hot mouth and the noble titled his head back, a large smirk on his lips. He proposed his hand to Alec, to take him somewhere else. 

 

The young boy, now scared, wanted to say no. But then he thought about Stéphane's words and how they touched his heart with precision and how they made him feel approved, liked, wanted, needed. I adore you. I am yours. All faces are gruesome next to yours. When one has once seen you, one cannot stand the rest. Those were the sentences that made Alec's mind change and how Stéphane had the servant wrapped around his finger, just like Dom Juan played with his girls, making them fall one after the other. 

 

How ironic. 

 

Alec held Stéphane's hand as they walked in the dark hallways in the castle. Now just a simple word or a movement or a stare from Stéphane meant a metaphor to Alec, like a small detail actually represented the way he saw the weird thing that was going on between them. Once in the room Alec felt happy to be on the white bed. He wanted to rest his head on the sweet pillow for a long time now and maybe tonight will be his chance. 

 

It indeed was. Stéphane pushed him down on the mattress and the pillow felt way different than his expectations. It wasn't as comfortable and creamy as Alec assumed. It was hard like a cold batch of clay. But before he could protest, Stéphane started kissing his neck and his thoughts vanished from the surface. He let himself to the other, giving every piece of what he held. He never felt more like a propriety than we Stéphane played with him, his body, his mind. 

 

"It will hurt you." Said the Sir, not to ask if he could continue but only as a remark. It will hurt and Alec will do nothing about it, end of the sentence. Something made a ringing sound in Alec's brain saying wrong, wrong, wrong, this is so wrong. He wanted to know again why he was doing this. "Say the words again, prithee." moaned Alec to his Master. Sir Catherman stopped himself in front of Alec's face and his lips dangerously approached Alec's as he breathlessly murmured: "I adore you," he kissed Alec just next to his eyebrow, "I am yours," Alec felt truly better, "All faces are gruesome next to yours," as he took off Alec's shirt, "When one has," he slowly pushed his lips on the younger boy's torso, "once seen you,"  Alec screamed in pleasure but continued Stéphane's sentence, "one cannot stand the rest." 

 

Sir Catherman smiled. He took off all of his clothes and all the ones who covered Alec's fragile body. Mixed sensations for Alec: pleasure then pain then pleasure again. The Bible came into his mind and started screaming abomination in his now corpse, especially where Stéphane touched him. He thought of Augustine's words and how she said that God still liked him, that the Christ saved him from his sins and already payed for him. But he couldn't not help than think that it wasn't good. It felt good. But it wasn't. When Sir Catherman was close to something that seemed to feel great to him but only hurt Alec, the young boy couldn't help himself by murmuring the hateful words that hit him so strongly. 

 

"You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination. " 

 

***

 

The morning after he woke up hurt, looked at the Bible next  to the bed and started crying. Stéphane hugged him tightly, and whispered in his ear that everything will be okay. God loves him and his sins do not matter, then he kissed his jaw and brushed off his tears. Alec felt like he finally belonged, even if it as an enormous lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec is endgame, don't worry. Comments are more than welcome, it's the best way to win a writer's heart!


	5. December 1665

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it gets happier.

Dear journal, 

I do not like him. He smells good, he looks good, he talks good. He knows too many things and his mysterious aura makes me want to vomit. I do not like him, he seems too good to be actually good. I want him to leave my home. I want my mom to stop liking him. I want my sister to stop liking him. He's wrong, I know it. He will only bring false hopes. He's like the dark, the magical moment in the night, his sayings sound like he was a saint. I do not like him but he likes me. It's raining now. And I think that's beautiful. 

 

In the hopes no one ever finds you, dear journal. 16 december 1665

 

****

"I am soon to leave, my dear," Said Sir Catherman to Alec as they ate diner. They did that once every week or two weeks, they enjoyed some fresh meat that Alec cooked few hours ago while talking and sometimes the conversation would end up in Stéphane's room. It baca me some kind of routine for the both of them. They never went in Alec's room because for some reason his Master hated it. "I don't want to go in there anymore, don't push me." As he murmured to him whenever the young boy asked to spend the night in his bed. Of course it was less comfortable than the big palace that was Stéphane's room but Alec held an attachment to his own room and liked it there. It was the only place that felt like home these days. The only bubble he had for him: where warm felt warmer, where feelings where softer, pain less unbearable, memories away. With reflection, maybe he did not wanted Stéphane in his room, his only bubble.

 

Isabelle walked up to the table with her flying feet, as precise as an angel. She looked like she did not touched the ground with her beautiful body. A large smirk on her lips, she adjusted the teacup in her hands and started to fill up the cups. Alec's gaze was on her and only her, forgetting that Stéphane was even here by his presence. Isabelle was very strange today, she acted bizarre, way more proud and sure than usual. The way she acted showed surely that she knew something he didn't, like a cat who is about to eat a silly mouse. Their eyes met and suddenly there was no maybe's anymore, it was so sure that something was up. Saliva tasted like dust in his mouth from betrayal. He had no idea why, thought.

 

He brushed it off and shook his head to let the harmful thoughts out of his brain. Lips close to the cup, he sipped a gulp of tea who tasted awful. It was a bitter, messed up mixture of rosemary and peach who left an aggressive aftertaste in his mouth. He wondered if his thirst from dust was worse than the painful taste he now held behind his closed lips. Did Isabelle made the tea unbearable on purpose? Was this some kind of joke he couldn't well understand?

 

"You are leaving?" He asked once Isabelle walked away. She was still there in the corner of the room scrutinizing every single of their movements and sayings, smile on her pretty lips. Sir Catherman moved his head to the right and placed his hand over his warm forehead."Yes. I am going to see a friend to whom I've been sending letters." He answered strictly choosing his own words, trying to hide the bad and show the pretty. Sir Catherman talked all the time with long sentences full of details and whenever he used short ones without any glitter to it, it meant that he was hiding a part of the story. Something was surely up: his severe lips said it without being completely sure of what was a lie or what was not, what could hurt and what could not. Isabelle already knew and Alec could feel her large smile without even a look to her. It was so palpable in the atmosphere, putting a heavy weight on Alec's shoulders. 

 

"You are leaving," said the young boy once again. This time it wasn't a question but an affirmation. It was remorse and pain bottle up in words. Sir Catherman did not yield in front of Alec's attacks but instead straightened up his arched back. Alec hated that. Here he was doing it again, showing to the young boy that even if the two of them had an intime relation, Stéphane was still his Master and Alec the servant. "I am leaving indeed. Tomorrow. The house should not be empty while I'm away so I'm giving this duty to Andreas and you. This is NOT an invitation to let other people come inside. I do not want your... mother or Andreas' love to come here in the main time. This only means that everything is to be cleaned like normal and at least one of you should be here by night to keep the castle safe from robbery, am I being clear?"

 

"What about Isabelle?" asked Alec, partially knowing the answer. "She's coming with me." 

 

Boom. 

 

"She's coming with me, she is the only one who can hold horses in place. Augustine used to do that, but you know, she's not with us anymore. Fortunately, the old lady led her knowledge of horses to Isabelle before passing away. She will do the task. I am leaving for at least a week." Even if he talked more, Alec only listened with one ear. Everything else was dull: vision, heart slowly beating, the tea now tasted nothing against his tongue. He could remember how bitter it felt but couldn't feel it anymore. If the young boy had learned of bombs and the sensation after they bloomed, he would have related his feelings to the experiment. A bomb exploding in his brain, leaving only ashes. Unfortunately for him, the first nuclear weapon in England did not happened before 1952, a bit difficult for him to use the comparaison. 

 

Stéphane left the table, Isabelle laughed, Alec stayed an hour more. 

 

The castle felt different without Stéphane. It was like a candle without fire ; everything is here to work and normally function but something, as small as it could be, is missing in the painting. Talking about painting, he started at the one in his room days after days, painfully thinking it was a mark of Stéphane. Without him hours got shorter and shorter but longer to wait, like he was a hurt animal walking on a road: the travel to do was reduced every second but the agony stronger with every step. He hated feeling hopeless, feeling alone. He hated being so needy of someone's presence: wanting more than he had.

 

Andreas and Alec kept the castle clean as diamond clear, polished every opened room they could find, making the garden more astonishing than it ever was, laundry wither than the clouds that showed themselves in the grey sky. As we could have guessed, Andreas did not followed Stéphane's remarks and invited his other half in the house. Alec promised to say nothing to their Master if Andreas kept his mouth shut on the following subject: Alec spending some of his nights in Sir Catherman's bed. It was way different without the noble here to remind him who was the King between them, who held the strings. The room felt safe - somehow the room didn't hurt him, which wasn't always the case when he spent nights over there. Without the Sir, everything was different. Not better, not awful, just different.

 

Alec looked a puddles of water on the ground with a melancholy look. He asked himself if the clouds missed the rain after it fell to gain the earth. He had no idea that the clouds never decide to let the rain escape their hold, it was not possible to prevent the fall, it was not wanted by the cloud, and so was the missing feeling. It was not wanted by Alec. 

 

And then the week became two weeks, then three. When the noble and his sister came back, they did not felt like they were the same, but so was Alec, he changed. Everyone can change if you let them only to their thoughts. With the time his attraction decreased like the puddles of water who slowly got into the ground. Stéphane kissed him but it felt duller than before, it didn't moved Alec like it used to. Sex only felt like sex, not a mixture of pain and pleasure and love like it used to, it acted on the young boy's mind like a need and not a desire anymore. Distance makes the heart grow fonder but not in every situations and surely not in this one. Abandonment, that was what Stéphane did. He resigned Alec for someone else and the servant was now hurt in a way no one else could heal, not even gentle kiss over his cheeks. Catherman never gave him those: he was so practical that Alec almost thought that the Sir left his heart and care in his wife's sepulture. 

 

Stéphane opened four other rooms the day after he came back. He showed them to Alec: three of them had large one with a bed made in dark wood. The window let light flow in the room leaving a print of warmth in it. The view from it showed the garden with the roses that Andreas took so much care of. The room may be lighten up but no life was in it anymore. Maybe it used to be someone's place but it sure is not anymore. Alex felt tired of all of the maybe's he thought about, he wanted to shut down his mind for few hours and just leave stay lifeless. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Chances where none, no one could stop a brain from thinking, no matter how dull and annoying their life is.

 

The fourth door opened was a second dining room. The table was a bit smaller and clearly less impressive than the one that Stéphane used downstairs. Alec's eyes fell on a large and black object in the right corner, close to the windows. He instinctively walked up to it, wondering what it could be. He never saw something as magical as that. Dust recovering it, one of his fingers brushed the dirt out of it, letting a shining black mark. It looked so pure an weird at the same time. It was a new thing for Alec but the object was probably as old as the world was. He turned around to see Stéphane supported against the doorframe, his long robe folding itself next to his hip. 

 

"It's a piano, Alec." He said slowly with a voice that made Alec's heart break, a soft one who could enter his ears and find it's way to his brain so quickly. Whenever he used that delicate tone Alec felt again what made him crave the older man, but then he remembered how lonely he was left to once the other was not around. "You can use it to make music. It is very pretty once you can play it nicely." He added moving around in the room mysteriously. "My old wife used to brighten up our evenings with her songs and her beautiful voice." Suddenly something between them broke, again, one of the last strings that held them together. "I have to tell you something, Alec." He took the young boy's head in his head like he used to do all of the time, examining him from every angle. Alec knew why he did it so much, because he enjoyed having control over Alec's head - Alec's mind. He slowly pushed a kiss down his lips as an excuse but not as a goodbye kiss. 

 

"In the few months, I will be married." Alec's eyes fell to the ground. He did not care anymore, he was too hurt to be hold by the finger to the man anymore. He would miss the physical interaction they had, but his heart did not belonged to Sir Catherman's anymore. He was happy that they had some time separately before Sir Catherman told him such horrid news. He was happy that time murmured to him the way to live without someone else running in his head, playing with him. Indeed, Alec's heart was not one of Sir Catherman's belongings.

 

Actually, it never belonged to him. 

 

Alec never quite fell in love with Stéphane; he had strong feeling and want surely needs of belonging and reciprocate feelings, but he did not... fell in love. He craved the attention and the arms of the older man but he absolutely did not craved his heart or his thoughts. But somehow, him announcing his future mariage still hurt bad. 

 

"She his a wonderful lady and we are both widowers. We are putting our money together so her dynasty survives. She is more my friend than a lover," he said while he played with Alec's ear. The young boy sighed. He knew what the words meant. The Sir Catherman's case was not ready to be closed: It destroyed everything but built new hopes, and it was wrong.

 

***

 

One of the rares Sundays where Alec came back to his mother's house, he saw her sick. She was almost about to die but Alec held her in his arms and made her meat with the small money he had. She was a ghost, not only because she acted like the mad hatter with fever, but also because her comfortable voice was not as reassuring as it used to be for Alec. He helped her to be better but it didn't felt like it was his mother that he healed. He kissed her before she sending her to sleep on her forehead still, like she used to do when he was younger. 

 

Sir Catherman gave him few free days so he could put her back on her feet. He disliked the woman very strongly but was not as heartless to let her die alone. Alec went to the Church so he could ask some help from the smartest person he knew. "You should do a bloodletting, so the infected blood gets out of her body and she will feel better afterwards." Said the priest when he asked for help. He wanted to follow the advice but did not because cutting his mother's wrist was too hard for him, as much as they didn't felt family to each other anymore, they still had a past. So he kept giving her soup, meat, let her sleep long nights in her warm bed with a lot of covers and a fire that he made, slowly praying for her. 

 

And he kissed her, he gave her healing kisses but also goodbye kisses. 

 

She did not passed away thanks to Alec, and when she felt truly better he left the house for the castle. He knew that his goodbye kisses were not only if she died, but also if she survived. Helping her for a week was his gift: she gave him life, he kept her life. It was a way to say thank you and give back the years she had offered him, like a Master giving a painting to his old Majordome once he leaves the house. This sickness was an obstacle that God gave him so he could make a choice and finally quit her life. He could have let her to her fate, letting her old body fuelled with bad thoughts, sickness, leaving her mentally ill and let her die, but he thought that was not a proper goodbye. He wanted to thank her and be just, nice, kind, like she told him to be. 

 

Once the door closed behind him, he walked away, never going "home" again. 

 

Then life was normal again: the routine started for a week. He washed the castle in the morning, made a big attention to clean really nicely the Piano (with a big letter, he thought the Piano needed a big letter even if he had no idea of how to write). He felt like the object was a revelation, somehow important to his irrelevant servant life. Alec never thought he was God's favorite and never risked himself to think as far as that. Every human is God's favorite but the Piano was something else. The Piano was perfection in every angle and called Alec all the time, silently screaming. For Alec, the Piano was important, but he had no idea why.

 

Then something happened. A loud sound woke up Alec in the morning, following by horses neigh's. At first the servant thought that his sister made a stupid act but it wasn't. He quickly dressed up, putting his chores closes, the only one he had if you forget about his bed ones. Once done, he ran to the main door of the castle. He looked outside by the window where a coach was waiting. Catherman was talking with someone inside of it, laughing and smiling. Alec had no idea of what was going on, so he turned to Andreas with a surprised emotion all over his face. "What is..."He started to ask, but Andreas answered before he even finished his sentence.

 

"The Banes are here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Magnus will be in next chapter and everything will be fluffy and cute and whatever. 
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos it makes me very happy!


	6. Chapter 6

Dear journal, 

 

It's happening now, it's the day. Everything changes, my vision of the world, my vision of him, my vision of them, everything. I miss France.

 

In the hopes no one ever finds you,  28 december 1665

 

***

 

They entered in the house like it already was theirs. Maybe it actually was, and in a way Alec would never understand, how much something can be yours more or someone else's more. Directly, a young girl with a splendid face made an appearance, showing the whole world that she was from somewhere else, another place where dust is not dust, the sun shines brighter and the food is healthier. She had a long creamy white dress with a corset that made her breast look bigger than a fourteen year old girl should have on her body. She had little details and perfections everywhere your eye could stop, painting her robe would be a real burden. Belgian laces everywhere, showing how wealthy her family was, she adjusted a knowing smile on her fine lips. Eyes slowly scrutinizing the room she probably realized how dark the castle was: too dark for a girl of her ambition.

 

Her gaze stopped on Alec for less than a second before she proposed him to baiser  with his large lips her hand, and in the back you could hear Sir Catherman slightly laughing. "He's a servant, Cecilia, I don't think you want him to..." Alec let his eyes down, looking the ground with a submissive expression. The girl's hand was now gone for long as he walked to take some of the new family's baggages. He asked quickly to the noble where he should put the girl's packages and he told Alec that Cecilia will sleep in the first room, Magnus in the second, the closer to the smallest dinner, and that Mme. Bane is to be in Stéphane's room.  After he swallowed his saliva, he made his way through the stairs. 

 

Behind him he heard Sir Catherman's voice. "Ah, Magnus! You're here. I will ask the servant to take your horse away." Alec didn't care. He just felt eyes on his back and told himself than now there would be more laundry to do, more cooking, and so, less time to clean the Piano, which was his favourite task. 

 

Too bad. 

 

With more mouths to feed, Alec quickly went to the market so he could buy everything for the now large family. He bought meat for Catherman and the three Banes, then a chicken to make some soup, along with vegetables. He said hi to everyone as habitual, the meatman laughed in his mustache while the farmer gave him his hand to shake and the milk girl, seated just behind her father smiled to him shyly. Alec liked her, she was very timid but her silence meant a lot. In front of Sir Catherman who talked too much and used his charisma for his own purposes, she was a kind girl, an innocent one. Maybe the kind if girl his mother would like if he married her. He hushed his thoughts - marrying want an option for him, and neither thinking about his mother to whom he already said goodbye.

 

He decided to make something special so he - Sir Catherman - could welcome properly the Banes in the castle. He  bought some eggs and asked the young girl some new milk and sweet butter. She gave him everything he needed and he payed her the right price. When he left, he remembered how moist her hands were because it somehow brushed his mind for more than three seconds.  He walked to the castle again, taking streets he knew by heart.?Once he was home he starting cooking directly and found peace in the kitchen after a couple of heavy sighs. He did made normal dinner: rabbit's meat, vegetables and chicken soup as a starter, then his little surprise: cheese made into a cake. His old mother gave him the recipe when he was younger. She showed him the book who had no pictures and she told him everything that was written in it. Funny thing that now, Alec can't read anything except the word cheese. 

 

"So this means cheese, 'mother, tell me for the rest!" "We have better to do than this, honey. Reading won't help you in life. Cooking and laundry and cleaning will." "If you say so."

 

Hands working on the food, he still felt bad about making something that the others will eat, with his own hands. Not that it was bad to make dinner for the others, he just knew it was wrong. His hands were completely crushed by work, by dust who got inside of his skin, blood sometime getting out of his body from scrubbing the laundry too much, soap giving his hands a new kind of Hell. He felt bad too see how dead this part of him was, how damaged they were after six months of work in a new house. He wanted to take back his normal hands. His clean hands. His hands.

 

Once it was done with Alec's master touch, there was still more than fifteen minutes to the dinner. The table was already done by Isabelle so he found himself with free time. He couldn't sleep now because if he tried he probably won't wake up when he's supposed to. He let his apron on the cooker and went directly to his room with tired steps. Then he stopped in the middle of his travel. 

 

Something was wrong and something was right.

 

"What's-" He said before stopping himself. A symphony was ringing through walls. Alec had no idea of what it could be since he never heard music before that moment. He liked how pretty it sounded against his ears and how nicely it kissed his mind, encircling him like two dancers in a room, alone. If what he was living had a taste it would be sugar: sweet but slowly bitter towards the end. He closed his ends as he heard clicks on marble, strong sounds vibrated in the house and in his weak body. It was coming from his favourite room.

 

He really carefully walked to the room where the Piano was, only the black pure object could make something as astonishing from scratch. Alec was wrong, very wrong; the Piano had nothing to do with how music was made. The talent, the power the servant liked was not the job of some strings and  keys. It was something - someone, who ruled the Piano and held it like an horseman held his animals, guiding them to the point. 

 

Seated in front of the Piano, a young boy probably older than Alec. He was very tall and had feminine shoulders who played and flew through the air with a remarkable agility. Usually, shoulders are set low from all of the weight of stress, anxiety, wrong decisions, right decisions, feelings, senses. Sir Catherman had strong bones who held every pain he could still feel in his heart and his mind, while Alec had falling shoulders who tried poorly to held the problems of his life. But not the boy: he was a bird making his way inside of the sky, piercing it with strength. Like time wasn't acting on him and so problems, Alec wasn't sure if the person he had in front of him was really human and not some angel from the sky, maybe lucifer, after all he was the prettiest of them. But again such a magnificient sound could only come from God himself. 

 

Heart full of inspiration, growing second by second, Alec felt his legs falling. He felt warm in his body like a fire taking control of a house while it eats the home from the inside. The place where he was now seemed like a bubble in time; only him inside of it, with this Godly stranger playing the Piano with no problems. Alec wanted to get lost in the other boy's head, maybe steal his hands and replace his damaged ones with a brand new pair full of knowledge. Alec sighed.

 

The pianist stopped and his shoulders took so, so much weight in one second. Life was back in it's normal place: stress, anxiety, wrong decisions, right decisions, feelings, senses, all of that came back quicker than a bullet crushing a living heart. The magic faded out as the boy had his hands paralyzed over the Piano's keys, surprised. For a few seconds he did nothing and Alec held his breath in: he was a freak. He was messed up, he screwed up the beautifulest thing he could ever behold once in his life. He would never hear something as remarkable as he just had. And now, because of him, it was long way lost even if he still tasted the music in the air.

 

The other boy moved again and slowly brought his hands to his legs. He waited few seconds before turning to see who was there. That wasn't fear that fueled the back of the boy's eyes, it was curiosity. Of course he didn't liked the fact that someone heard him play without his authorization but he wanted to know who had enough courage to do it. 

 

What Alec acknowledged first was how different was the Pianist Magnus and Citizen Magnus: the last one had a lot to envy to the first one. Confidence was surely the biggest part of it, since the boy who turned around had circles under his eyes, shaking hands and dry lips. All of the player's assurance gone, the God-like aura, the boy was now... just a boy. 

 

A marvelous boy, noted Alec. There was less words to describe his looks than his music and suddenly Alec was ravished that he heard it without seeing the boy playing at the same time, because seeing such a beauty playing, his eyes semi closed from the emotion would be heartbreaking. The pianist had soft rosy lips shining like the rain in the morning, watering eyes as clear as diamonds. His cheeks, painted in fainted red made competition to his jaw: someone could cut a hand on it. Breathing slowly, his mouth was parted in two as he watched Alec holding himself next to the doorframe. 

 

Alec wanted to know what was thinking the boy - he was named Magnus, if his memory was good enough - not if he felt disturbed by his presence, but more if he was annoyed about him being here. 

 

What he thought of Alec when he saw him. 

 

Then the boy adjusted his hair with his long hands, laughed loudly and started talking with a deep voice than rang like the fresh air in the middle of the night. 

 

"Out, please." He turned to look at the only painting in the room, a representation of the Madonna, just beside the window and Alec was not sure if he really talked to the servant or the the Lady dressed in red. Just before leaving as quickly as he got in, he watched Alec face with dexterity, to remember every inch of his face and how emotions made him move his muscles, how his eyes adjusted to light, how his lips moved slowly speaking in his breath. 

 

Alec turned around and left. He was a servant with King's eyes, observing everything as softly as he could. Hands already dead his eyes were almost the last thing he got for himself. Sir Catherman may have bought his body to his mother, stole his mind with his words, but his eyes were still his and that will not change. Alec held close what was still in his possession. 

 

The family had dinner that night and Sir Catherman made a snarky remark to how Alec never made any desserts in the habitual time and that the day must be a special day. Isabelle served some tea to everyone and while the Banes talked with the Master, the servants ate in the kitchen. They all made compliments on the cheese cake and Isabelle even smiled to him as a thank you. Maybe she remembered how their mother used to do it when they were younger and living there. 

 

 

Just before Sir  Catherman and his new family went to the living room next to the burning fire, he stopped in front of Alec. He got close to his ear and made the servant a bit uncomfortable with closeness. "Go in the second dining room, there's a painting in there. I want you to take it off and put it somewhere else." Alec made a head sign as an answer, then opened slowly his mouth. "Where do you want me to move it? If I my ask, why?" Sir Catherman's hand found it's place on Alec's shoulder. "Well, you can bring it in the attic, you will do that tomorrow with the first light. Be sure Magnus is not in the room when you take it for somewhere else, he's... they're..."

 

"Stephane?" said a clear voice from the living room, asking for him. He turned to Alec and let a quick pick on his lips before leaving to find his future wife. The servant sighed when he walked to his bedroom, his day now finished. He sat down in front of the painting of the man in red with deep brown eyes and looked at it for minutes that seemed as long as hours. After a while he heard footsteps in the room next to his and his door opened with a rough sound. All dressed in a cotton white dress looking like a very long t-shirt, his sister with her hair free. It was disturbing to see her without her shroud to encircle her hair and face. 

 

She stayed a bit without saying a word, concentrated on her damaged hands. She was also broken, maybe not as much as Alec or maybe even more. He had no idea of what she felt and how she lived in the past six months, she had to endure what happened to Augustine way harder than he did, but then she also left to see France when Sir Catherman took her with him. She had ups and downs as everyone. She had life, that was all. 

 

Her dry lips moved to talk and her voice was so low. "Are you... Will you see our mother soon? Perhaps this Sunday?" Alec's throat got stuck in place, he worked hard on his mind and on his body to speak up. The our mother seemed wrong, that lady wasn't Isabelle's mother, she wasn't Alec's mother. She used to but unfortunately her presence was not the warm embrace as it felt before. If she was such a stranger to Alec's eyes, he couldn't even imagine how far away she was with Isabelle. "Yes, I am." He lied. 

 

After he healed her last month, he decided that it was over, the strings wrapped around their fingers got cut as he passed the doorframe. He had no idea why Isabelle was asking him this and even less why she was talking to him after months of war. 

 

"The cheese cake, earlier. That was her recipe, right?" She asked, touching her night dress showing that she wasn't comfortable. Alec made a head sign as the only answer. Her head against the doorframe, she shyly smiled showing that one tooth was gone. She lost it when she was seven if he remembered well. They were in the woods on an exploration for herbs for their mother, looking everywhere to find some green who could help. She looked everywhere except her feet and she fell against a bunch of dry dirt. She cried and Alec hugged her, hushed her, telling it wasn't so much and she was still as pretty as before. That wasn't a lie. 

 

Lying comes with age, Alec thought. A kid always says the truth, can't say something wrong. When you grow you start thinking about the other's feelings and how you can embellish their life, their looks, you lie. White lies, small lies, they can't do a big thing, a big impact. Then life gets complicated and you continue in your lies and continue and continue. It becomes a way to be, a way to talk, a way to feel. Feeling like a lie. 

 

"Say her thanks from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is fluffy!! I swear it gets really cute ok 
> 
> I started to work on other fics, more the oneshot type. If you have any prompts for me, tell!
> 
> Comments and kudos are really welcome they make me happy!


	7. december 1665 - january 1666

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda the story that will follow me forever, even if I haven't touched it in like 2 years. I will continue posting bc someone asked for it, and if it pleases I'll continue writing it! So please if you like it tell me :)
> 
> (just so you know, the painting here is called Lucca Madonna, even if in the conversation they say it doesn't have a name that's normal bc to make it historically true. The painting found it's name after the 19th century because the guy who had the painting was the Duc of Lucques (Lucca in Italian), so at this state of the history, the painting has no real name. Also, <3 Jan Van Eyck 4 eva.)

_Dear journal,_

__

__

 

All the days just look like they're not Tuesday. 

 

_In the hopes no one ever finds you, **29 december 1665.**_

 

***

 

The day after, Alec woke up and went directly yo the Piano's room. He entered in an appreciative calm, trying to let everyone sleep. He walked next to the painting in the corner of the room, letting his hand softly brush against the black object, just to have a contact with it but without really touching it. Once he was in front of the painting, he looked at it with admiration. It was breathtaking, everything in it: the way it was made, the colors, the movement the painter used, the small details. It was a wonderful representation of the Madonna dressed all in red, breastfeeding the Infant. There was something about this painting, something right. Where Alec saw colors kissing each other to make shades, Magnus seemed to see nothing. 

 

Alec felt touched by a painting that was so beautiful, by the looks between the Madonna and the Infant, how the small room created intimacy, the sun coming in as a flow of light, piercing air with ease. The small details and how you could see the reflection in the Madonna's clothes, how the big red mass of her cloak was ripped apart by large folds. The serene four lions on the throne were like protectors, a symbol of power, energy, wisdom. So many ways to see this painting, to appreciate the delicate work of the painter. And again, Magnus saw it as awful. Why, why, why, asked Alec to himself, why could not Magnus see the beauty somewhere he could. 

 

Alec asked himself, why could he see beauty where someone saw nothing? 

 

Stéphane was there, Alec knew it. Sir Catherman was there, looked from behind, close to the door and scrutinized every mode the young boy did. "It's quite pretty, isn't it?" Said the noble. Alec did not turned around, he already knew Stéphane too much to know how well dressed he was, how badly shaved he was, how he was posted against the doorframe and how his hair would show dark curls. "I like it very much. I do enjoy paintings a lot, Stéphane, way more than should a simple servant." 

 

Even if the Sir said nothing, he felt embarrassed. Suddenly, Alec calling him Stéphane was somehow inapropriate to him. Maybe it was because of the soon Lady Catherman, Mme Bane. Or how their relationship evolved these last few weeks with them having long distance. Then he thought about homosexual intercourse and his memories gave him good moments to look forward to, so he said nothing and let Alec talk to him in that intimate way. It was like these thoughts were wrong from him or from anyone, but he was not God. He was human, and human can make mistakes. 

 

"You have marvelous eyes, Alec, know that. What you are admiring right now is a painting made by Jan Van Eyck, a famous painter. He created that technique, oil painting. It's very nice to look at, isn't it? You can get lost in her creamy skin, huh?" Explained Sir Catherman still next to the door.

 

"Why do most of your paintings are in a room where no one appreciate them, if I may ask? There is one in my bedroom, one in here where it was closed." Said Alec maybe going a little further than where he could go as a servant, but too polite as an amant. 

 

"Not many people know that but before I was known in the village, I lived here with my wife. For one year or so, we never got out since she was sick and I liked staying next to her when she was not feeling very good. She may found it irritating but I enjoyed being in her presence. Augustine bought everything for us, and for a year or so, I never left this castle. When she died, of course, I started going out more and people talked about me because of my money." He stopped for a second.

 

" I'm- I'm going off subject now. The person who enjoyed the paintings, it was not me. It was my wife. She had eyes asking for faded beauty when I had my eyes on her. If most of my paintings are not in everyone's gaze, that is because I wanted it that way, the less people who can see them, the more important my wife's eyes are." He smiled to himself.

 

"That- This is naive." He said with a french accent on the last word. "But locking up the paintings make me feel like I'm locking up a part of her, that I decide when I want them to go away and leave for the Paradise." 

 

Alec finally turned to the older boy ready to ask more questions, as much as he could. "And so you're letting her go now, you feel like it's the time?" To what Stéphane laughed heavily, so heavily that Alec feared someone else woke up from the noise. "No. I'm not, I will never be ready for such a thing. I'm letting her go because Magnus asked me." 

 

"But I mean, why? The painting is really incredible, full of details, I could look at it for hours! And it's the Mother so I don't see an-" Started Alec with a guilty curiosity. Stéphane stopped him quickly with a dominant tone. 

 

"There are things I can not tell you, Alec. You have to learn better your place here. It is okay for you to ask to me, but never to others. This is Magnus' life, Miss Bane's life, Cecilia's life." The servant looked down. "Where do I put it?" Stéphane thought a bit, leaving the room to go in his mind. He was thinking of rooms and places to let the painting rotten. "In the attic, prithee. After I will sell it, so he must be in a good state. You will go there every week or so to take the dust off but you HAVE to be precise. If you did not understand this before, this painting's value is worth approximatively fourty times the debt I gave to your mother to buy your sister and yourself. If something-" 

 

"It's okay, I'm not that foolish Stéphane. Have you seen my hands? They're the proof of my hard and respectful work for you. Thanks for reminding me you actually bought me, that was quite fancy." Suddenly before he could even move, he felt Sir Catherman's hand over his throat, holding him with force but without hurting him. Anger in his eyes, the noble's jaw was clenched, showing how heated he was. "Alec. I just said that you have to learn your place here. You will never again, and I say never with a serious tone, talk to me like that. I am your Master and I have the right to make your life a living Hell if I want to, try to remember that. Never again you will cut me while I'm talking." 

 

For few seconds Alec did nothing, said nothing. What was he supposed to do, say yes? Or never talk anymore? Lay down on his back like he was an animal, showing how submissive he was? He did nothing, and buy nothing it was absolutely nothing - he stopped breathing. Sir Catherman's hand started being weaker on his throat, and Alec thought that maybe the fear in his eyes were somehow touching him. He let him go quickly but stayed in front of him. The way his mouth moved and the emotions his eyes told Alec that something stayed unsaid. Right before Sir Catherman left, he approached his lips next to the younger boy and gave him a small kiss, almost to say I'm sorry. 

 

Alec brought the painting to the attic. When he came back to the room so he could wash a bit the wall to take off dust. He passed a lightly wet cloth on the wall and then on the Piano. Now that Magnus was here, should he stop cleaning it? Or should he clean it more? Alec had no idea. He still enjoyed very much passing time with the black object, and more now since he knew how wonderful it sounded with Magnus' talent. 

 

Talking of the Bane, he came in the room without a word but his heavy steps were to be heard. He looked at the painting (or more, where the painting used to be) for a second with a satisfied smile on his lips before he seated in front of the Piano. The said Piano that Alec was cleaning in the same time. They were not close at all but it felt weird. Magnus sat there and seemed to wait. Of course Alec directly asked if he should stop it. 

 

"Sorry Sir, do I have to leave? I may come back later if you prefer so," but Magnus answered in a smile as quickly, "Oh no, I enjoy seeing people. Please continue. Oh, and thanks for the painting, I do not know if you removed it or if it was someone else, but thanks." Alec laughed inside, finally someone in this house used please instead of prithee. He wanted to ask why the painting couldn't stay here in it's normal place but he remembered what Stéphane said earlier. 

 

What a weird character, thought Alec. First he started to talk to a servant as it was a friend and then he enjoyed looking at people without saying a thing, then he did not appreciated the painting. Was he jealous because the painter also had beauty stuck in his hand, so did Magnus? Was it anger from jealousy? 

 

"So, ever played piano?" Asked Magnus completely naturally. Alec was a bit taken by the question. "Uh, no. Never, I don't have any talent or teacher for it whatsoever." Not like I could buy myself a Piano anyways. "I see. You want to try?" Alec froze for few seconds. Was this really happening? Was this future prince, king, lord or something in the lines asking him if he wanted to play from the God's instrument? It must be a dream. "No thank you." 

 

Magnus pouted like a baby and Alec let a small smile on his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud. He was almost finished now, the only thing that was still to do were the legs. He kneeled down and Magnus watched him doing it, putting a small discomfort between them. Alec was the one cramped here, Magnus was more enjoying himself. 

 

"You don't talk much, do you?" He said after ten seconds of silence. No, you do it enough for us two. "Are you scared of me? Why don't you want to play some piano? It's like- the best thing I ever tried. You feel completely taken by the notes and how the sound vibrates through your body, you almost leave the place. That's a thing you have to try." 

 

Maybe Magnus did not understood that the only reason why Alec was not answering and following his questions was because he was a servant. In another life he would've said yes and awfully played on this keys sitting next to him. Too bad the author of this story wanted to make a Ancien Empire story and that they have to act in a certain way as servants and lords. Alec was actually shy in front of the other boy, he did not wanted him to repulse the other's feelings but after what said Catherman, he felt like he had to. Getting close to someone was another way to get hurt easily, even more if it's from a servant perspective. 

 

Alec wanted to built a castle around his heart to prevent persons to come and go in it; his mother, Augustine, the milkgirl, Sir Catherman, Isabelle, Magnus. The last one seemed so innocent, yet older than Alec but way more childish and virgin to face the world that's around him. Alec liked the way Magnus talked with less big words as Stéphane. Something was wise in Magnus' sentences. Wise not from knowledge or books but more from relationships. Stéphane had this cold coat around his heart that made him seem invincible when Magnus held his organ right in his mouth every time he said a word. 

 

"You will see, it's nice. One day you will try, it's a promise." Alec moved his head from left to right. "You don't have to do a promise to someone like me." Magnus leaned down his whole body on the Piano chair as he talked. "I'm not doing this a promise to you, it's to me. But now that we're there, why don't you swear something to me?" Oh no, thought Alec, this was going in the wrong way. "May I ask what?" 

 

"Every Tuesday, you come here and hear me play piano. You stop cleaning this room the other days," he made a silence then took a deep voice, "you can't even come here," a smile took place on his large lips, "and Tuesday you wash everything since you're so good at it, and I force you to listen to me. Playing and talking." 

 

Alec who finished cleaning stood up and started walking away. "If it pleases you my Sir." Magnus ran to him and stopped him before he was outside of the room. "Do we do a blood promise?" With a big smile. 

 

Alec hesitated, it was habitual to end promise with blood mixing. He did not wanted to right now, first because he hated loosing blood and secondly... He did not wanted Magnus' blood, a noble one, to have some servant's blood mixed. Instead of really answering his reasons, he just let out a shy "Don't worry I will come," and left. 

 

***

**mdclxvi started. (1666)**

 

On Sunday, Alec went to Church. He prayed the Madonna now that he had a clear idea of how beauteous she was. He stayed in there for more than an hour. Walking by the Village's market he had second thoughts: maybe he should see his mother and tell her Isabelle's message, but then it would mean actually seeing her. He did not wanted to, he said goodbye to her a week and three days ago and it was very hard for him. Doing that again was not an option. 

 

He felt like the woods would be a great idea, a great place to stop by before going in the castle again and become his real annoying self: Alec the servant, having an affair with his Master, hating his own sister. 

 

He stayed outside while he looked at the trees and their magnificient aura. Without any leaves they had this nude and cold vibe. Alec asked himself if the trees knew they where beautiful or not. Did Cecilia knew how pretty her face was? Did Sir Catherman had an idea of what his words could do? Did Magnus even realized how much his hands could produce something that was better than God himself? 

 

Was there, someone in the world who could use the Piano's keys to play it in a way that was more astonishing than Magnus? 

 

He breathed in some air and looked back on 1665. It started a every other year, with his mother and sister all sleeping in the same bed. The three of them had a great relationship, loving and helping each other when they could. Isabelle could not stop talking about how she wanted to grow up quicker and Alec would laugh to her remarks. Even if he was sixteen he was still growing and his fourteen sister has some time to wait before she's completely an adult. 

 

Then Catherman came in the picture and they were forced to became adult ; working all the time, killing themselves from tiredness. Alec had no idea if he became an adult or if he stayed a child stuck in a grown body, he was lost like a ghost between the two. 

 

Then he thought about 1666. And so far, it's alright.

 

****

 

_Dear journal,_

__

__

I saw him in the woods last Sunday. When I asked to Sir Catherman where he was, why he wasn't with us, he said that he had other things to do. Things less important he added, almost murmuring. 

_In the hopes no one ever finds you, **3 january 1666.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing, I'm re-reading this fic and now that I'm actually learning history in uni, I know that some of what I say is false. I'm deeply sorry about that, and I'll change it when I find time! 
> 
> Don't forget to comment it makes a writer's day :)  
> ~m


	8. january 1666

_Dear journal,_

_It's Tuesday._

_In the hopes no one ever finds you, **7 january 1666.**_

***  
As the sun woke up, birds started to sing in a wonderful harmony. Alec put on him some cotton clothes before he started his day. It was very early in the morning and as soon as he was ready to work, he walked right away for the Piano's room. It was not because he was a good servant and he was eager to clean everything but because if he was there early he could have a chance to start washing the second dining room without Magnus in it. He wasn't breaking his promise: it was Tuesday after all, the pact was still right. 

 

Of course like he could've predicted, the door was locked. He tried forcing it a little but soon stopped, too scared of breaking something. He completely left the house to do some groceries: life was very routine as they said, always the same things to do, always the same time. He passed in front of his mother's shop and felt something weird in his body. He brushed it off and walked faster. 

 

Alec was pretty sure that she will never know that Isabelle said thank you. He had no guts to come back in that house and tell her. In a push of anger, he said to himself that it was Isabelle's work to go and talk to the old lady, not his. 

 

Once he was in the castle again he saw Isabelle serving tea to the Banes while they were having breakfast. He made a head sign for his sister who answered with a quiet smile. Things between the two of them were going better than before. She still was a stranger to his eyes but a least a nice stranger. In the kitchen he started preparing the meal for this afternoon, now that the he had to make way more food than before, it took at least twice the time. They longer finished eating when Alec found time to leave the kitchen. 

 

He walked to the Piano's room slowly. Of course like he predicted Magnus was already in it waiting for him to come. He had his robe fold on the chair, his back arched so he could read a manuscript on the table. Alec made a small sound to declare his presence. Magnus turned around not sure if it was the servant or someone else. When he saw Alec he kept his smile inside and just stood up to invite the younger boy in, closing the door after him. 

 

Alec was not comfortable. That was the first thing you could understand by seeing the two acting around each other; Magnus almost running across the room like a child, Alec feeling vacant like the old parent. Of course the noble saw this and he quickly tried to make the other at ease. He sat down on the Piano's chair and started playing while he moved his eyes from Alec to the Piano, silently asking something. 

 

Alec walked slowly to the Piano while he locked his eyes on the back of Magnus' neck, just before his shoulders started. A bit anxious, Magnus' fingers hesitated before touching the keys. Once he did, everything changed: Magnus, Alec, the room around them, the space they shared. Magnus became someone else, a better-version of himself, a talented messager of God walking among humanity. His touch was so delicate, precise, admirable. 

 

Magnus there is something you should know, something I have been waiting to someone but there is no one who wants to hear, every time I pass next to the Piano I feel like something is wrong, something tells me that the Piano is important, way more important than I am or that any object is: way more important than what can say Sir Catherman. There is this- this intuition that something is so, so wrong. I loved this feeling of path, destiny that the Piano gave me whenever I was around. And then- you came in the picture. With weird habits and the way you talk, then y-

 

"You still here, Alec?" 

 

"I am. Sorry, I was... somewhere away." Before Alec realized, the music was over and Magnus looked at him for few seconds like a dog trying to understand before he burst out laughing. His eyes wrinkled around the edges as his lips parted. 

 

"Sure, away." He paused. "How are you?" 

 

Alec felt weird. This wasn't a normal relation between a servant and a noble. But Magnus sure not acted like a noble. "I'm great, thanks for asking." A silence was set between them, this time making Magnus uncomfortable too. He tried to speak up, opening his mouth without letting words. He suddenly realized how Cecilia must feel when she was unable to talk with her corset too tight on her fragile body. 

 

"May I ask something?" Alec said, a bit scared. Of course there was no reason for him to be that way: Magnus was no noble in his heart, Magnus hated hierarchy, Magnus hated blood. "Yes, sure." He was still on the Piano chair in front of Alec, looking at him with curiosity. Finally he will start talking, he will start saying what he wants, he will ask what he wants to know. It wasn't so huge in Alec's mind but was an enormous step for Magnus. 

 

"What are you playing? Is this- a piece from someone else's hands? Or do you enjoy making your own?" Maybe what pushed Alec to engage a conversation was the Piano: this magical object that Magnus could bend to his smallest wishes with the ability of his fingers. There's always this question planing above their heads, what if Magnus had no talent? Would they still be what they will become?

 

Magnus smiled. "Usually I play what my teacher taught me when I was younger. Sometimes, I let myself stealing my father's pieces, but I, indeed, wrote my own. I don't play it as often as I used to, but it is my favorite from all." He touched his own fingers while he talked. Amec looked at him with a quiet smirk on his lips. 

 

"How is it, to write?" 

 

"Oh well, not so special. I just do my thing, I start and if I like what comes out of my brain well I keep it. Sometimes I hate it, that's the hardest days- oh no wait, the hardest days are when I'm in front of the piano and I want to continue my story but I just can't because there's no chords who seem to sound right. I think, it is the same as writers- they stare at a blank page, wondering what can be wrong today that wasn't bothering as much the other days, how difficult is the exercise that seemed to be as easy as breathing. I'm rumbling and taking the conversation only for myself, sorry." 

 

Alec let out a laugh but quickly took himself and opted for a straight posture. "Don't worry, I enjoy listening. I should clean the room perhaps, I have other things to do today. I don't want to let down Stéph... Catherman." As he said that he started working on the windows, giving a hell to the dust that was resting on the glass. He added after few seconds: "I'd like to hear you play your own piece, if this is okay with you." Alec had no idea from where all of this confidence came from, if it was because this room had magic in it, or if the way Magnus acted with him -like he was not a servant, he was not a noble, they were just two humans- made him feel at ease. 

 

"I was waiting for you to ask this! I don't want to show off with the piano or anything." Adjusting himself on the chair, he bit his lip. "I'm sorry, but I can't play it completely, I wrote it for four hands- usually it's my sister and I, but if that is okay with you I can teach you the ones she does." Magnus proposed, happy. 

 

Alec answered directly, without thinking. "No." 

 

"-Uhm, no, I'm sorry this is a nice proposition but I have to finish my work and this will, uhm, take too long, I can't. Maybe you can find a way to play it with only two hands? Or I can listen, my ear on the door, when you're doing it with your sister." 

 

Magnus frowned for few seconds, just enough for Alec to see it but so quickly that he asked himself if it really happened. Magnus' gentle face was not according a frown, that was for sure. "Okay. This is what I'm going to do then... here, listen to this." He played few chords. They sounded not high and not low, just in the right middle. Alec's mind worked so fast to associate the keys with the color orange- a dark orange. 

 

"Imagine- ugh, no. That's my part, wait." He played few chords before doing one that was really high, sounding like an angel laughing. It was a mix of few high keys. "It's- it's not what I want. It's complicated. I wanted to make you hear the parts Cecilia plays but it's too hard. Today you will only listen to mine, that's okay?" He asked even if it was not a question. 

 

He started playing the chords, letting himself go into that other Magnus, -Pianist Magnus- taking advantage. He played the orange chords again but with them he associated really low notes. The two of them danced around each other, sometimes making one, sometimes being completely separated. It lasted for a small time, maybe ten, twenty seconds. Then he changed the tempo, it was slower. Seeing the way Magnus was dangerously bitting his lip, something was missing. Maybe it was at that time that Cecilia was supposed to add her skills. 

 

He continued on the slower tempo for more, making it even slower. Alec wanted to hear the missing piece, what Cecilia was playing, he wanted to hear it now, he wanted to know the complete work, not some lost jigsaw puzzle part. 

 

Then something happened ; it was faster. The two entities; the orange and the low melody, they started being together way more than before, before stopping. A complete new sound took place. Somewhere between the middle and the really high, something sounding like... grey. Alec had no idea why is mind was associating colors with Magnus talent, but here he was. He closed his eyes, listening to the music. 

 

Grey sounded sad. If what Magnus was playing a story- this was a dark time. Orange came back in it, but this time it made the impression of loss. When low and orange played with each other, dancing, almost sounding like kissing, orange and grey were... adjusting to each other, going too slow, losing a race. The two of them could go together so beautifully, but it was not the case. 

 

Grey stopped. Orange continued alone for few seconds before low made an apparence again; the different melodies were again enlacing, chasing, sounding happier. This lasted for a while- almost a complete minute noted Alec. He thought this was nice it felt like summer, days never finishing as the sun stays in the sky for hours and hours. He could even see children playing in a farm or outside. Alec saw himself singing with his sister around the village, smiling to strangers and people they knew. He saw good days. 

 

 

The low chord took more importance every second, until Magnus seemed like he was hitting the Piano with force and anger. Alec's eyes flew open, looking at the other boy with interest. The low - Alec finally found something to name it, it was vanilla. It sounded like the so rare taste of vanilla - it took so much place in the music, killing the others by it's strength, then the time came where you could only hear that part of the piece. 

 

Alec wanted to forget what he heard, how beautiful it was but how strong it sounded against his ear. There was hate in Magnus' fingers, Alec heard it clearly. Then this urge came in his body, so quickly that it troubled the servant easily. He wanted to help: physically help, he wanted to hug him or touch his shoulder. Instead of moving, he watched him from afar with this urge, almost need, dying in his ideas.

 

Then the sound stopped, there was a long silence where Alec asked himself if it was finished. Should he applause? Should he talk? But quickly enough before Alec made a decision and started playing again. The orange was there all alone. Maybe in the complete piece orange actually never was alone but only Magnus could know. Another pair of keys was added: an odd sound. It was pretty, that was sure - something really really really low. But there was a little something who made it weird. Maybe the duo of keys didn't worked out together, like they hated each oth- no. It wasn't that. They just did not sounded nice. Magnus emotion while playing them was a complete straight line: nothing. On his face you could not see a trace of feelings or maybe a small touch of boredness. 

 

Magnus let the Piano alone, finishing his piece. Alec slowly clapped in his hands, not sure that he should do that, while he walked to be closer to the other boy. "That was... very pretty." Magnus looked at him directly in the eyes, a big smile on his lips as he took off some sweat of his face with the back of his hand. He quietly laugh. "Thank you Alec! It's waaaaaay better when you hear the whole thing, you know. I would really like if you could listen to the complete piece." Alec moved his head from left to right, slowly. "Don't worry, it is already beautiful Magnus. I enjoyed it very much." 

 

Magnus tapped the space just beside him on the chair, inviting Alec to sit next to him. The servant made it look like he never saw the movement and did not move. "I was wondering, the way you play it is so strong and powerful. Do you only play to make a sound or is this a story? Are you a writer in your soul?" Magnus started chewing his lip gently as an habit. "Well, you got me here. I'm telling a story indeed. But I'm no author. I can't play with words you know. I can only..." He pressed few keys on the Piano, making a sound to create emphasis, "... do sounds." 

 

He laughed to his own joke, probably forgetting as soon that Alec rejected his invitation to seat next to him. Alec could not help but smile as he heard the other boy's clear voice laughing. " If I may ask, what story are you telling?" he said with insecurities in his voice, since Catherman made it very clear that he shouldn't ask too many things.

 

"Alec please, never feel like it is not your place to ask questions. Don't play the role of the shy servant, I am already tired of this trope. You want to know something? Ask. I won't tell you if you don't ask. Plus it is not like I have any secrets to hide." He bit his lip again. "It's my story actually. I'm not exactly representing events like I should probably have, but I'm describing people with sounds who make me think, even feel of them." 

 

Alec smirked, he was right. He thought about it when Magnus played, this was a subject close to the noble's heart, giving him passion and happiness when he plays it. Quickly his mind worked to adjust faces over sounds, asking himself who could be who. But he knew so little of Magnus' life and surely had no idea if people were sweet to him, horrible, acceptable. The piece's strength resided in this, it was a way to intercept and understand people, not just a simple story like the one you read in books.

 

"Listen, those notes..." He played smoothly orange again. "That's my mom. I like her very much." Alec answered immediately without really thinking. "I could hear that when you showed the full piece. You seemed to be passionate." 

 

Magnus smiled quietly but did not answer. He played another chord, the low one, vanilla as he called it. "That's my dad." Alec noticed how playfully Magnus talked, he event said mom and dad instead of mother and father. Did he not showed them respect? Since Alec said nothing the other boy played another pair of keys. It was grey, the one who stopped Magnus' mother's course. "That one is my little brother Tyron." 

 

"But there are others that Cecilia plays. Since, you know, it's a four-hand piece. Talking about Cecilia," he played the chord that he tried so show early, the really high tone sounding like an angel laughing. "This is representing her." A wide smile on his lips, Magnus lost himself in moving his hands against the Piano for few seconds. 

 

"And you, which one are you?" Asked Alec directly, now less scared to speak up his mind. Magnus' head moved so he was looking through the servant's eyes, observing his iris. "How would you hear me? How high, low do you think I am?" Magnus said almost challenging. Alec walked so he could take one chair from the dining table. He put it close to Magnus but not too close. He sat down next to him. "Well you're uhm. I would say that you're brown." 

 

A small silence started between them and Magnus thought about this french expression, un ange passa, an angel came in, who means that no one talks and no sound can be heard. "Brown, seriously? That means nothing Alec." The servant moved his head. "You do not see things like I do, you know how you play yours chords, well, for me they are tastes, colors, things." The noble watched him with interest but still didn't understood. "Give me a chance to explain. Your mother, she's orange, she's the sun falling to meet the earth, the way you transcript her in chords for me it means that. It means force." 

 

"Oh I think I get your point. What are the others? How do my sounds make you feel?" He marked a pause. "Oh that sentence was really weird, sorry." He laughed quietly in his hand, hiding his smile behind his fingers. Alec smiled widely. "Your father, for me it is vanilla. You know, vanilla is rare and really expensive. But it is wonderful and so sweet even if in the apparence it is dead black. The chords you use, low but friendly, that what it makes me think of, well, vanilla." 

 

"That's amazing. I would so much enjoy a mind working like yours," and I would so much hands working like yours, thought Alec. "And so I'm brown? Is it because of my hair?" He touched his head with anxiety walking hands. Alec laughed at him and Magnus smiled. "No, do not worry. Brown means dirt, brown means earth." 

 

"So I'm dirt. Thank you very much, Alec." He said with a hint of sarcasm. "You are not. Dirt has a certain smell when it is wet, this comfortable one that reminds me woods. You are the nature, Magnus, not dejection. At least that's how I see you, that's how I feel you. Very down on earth, if you understand me. I can't use words I'm truly sorry, I'm so away from Catherman's talent." 

 

"I find it funny how you seem to loose what you want to say. And believe me, Catherman has a life behind him, the only thing he did was playing with words." Alec moved his head as an approval. He had no idea if Magnus knew Stephane before or after him, but they surely did not had the same relationship. "So this is me. The way I see myself, I think it goes pretty much with brown." he played slowly another chord, concentrating on the Piano so he wouldn't fail. It indeed sounded like Magnus, or at least the little Alec knew about him. 

 

"I was wondering, at the end there is a note, more like a pair of notes. If I may say, they do not go well together." Alec said and Magnus answered quickly: "Yes, I know. It is on purpose actually." 

 

"It is Sir Catherman, or am I wrong?" Asked Alec. Magnus smirked in a weird way. "It is indeed the one and only Stéphane Catherman." He answered, adding a french accent on his first name, mocking him. Alec moved in his chair as he talked. "It goes for him. I guess I would have seen something sounding more like wine, but it goes well with his double personality. You see what I am talking about I guess." 

 

Magnus laughed and started an imitation of the Sir with a playful voice. "Look at me, my name is Stéphane Catherman, I am a noble I am strong, I am the most magnificient man in the room. But don't get me wrong, I have a warm heart and I can make you fall with my words." Alec tried hard to retain a laugh but could not. He bit his lip to stop himself, he should not make fun of his Master but Magnus made him feel at ease like it was okay to think and tell what you want. 

 

He played with his hair as he told to Magnus that he had a wonderful time with him, that it was nice to finally talk to someone. He unfortunately had to leave because the castle won't clean itself. When Magnus asked if he would come here next week, same day, same time, his mouth answered before his mind. "Of course." 

 

But if Alec had time to think with his mind and not his guts, he would have said the same thing. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this part! :) Please tell me if you like and what you think it makes my day! :)  
> btw, do you guys know who writes the journal?  
> ~m


End file.
